Fillmore's Freak Juice
by Twilit Violet
Summary: Sally wakes up in bed with Fillmore the morning after a wild party and can’t remember how she ended up there. Humor. Rated for mild language, implied drug use, and suggestive dialogue. COMPLETE!
1. Part One

_Sally wakes up in bed with Fillmore the morning after a wild party and can't remember how she ended up there. Humor. One-shot. Rated for mild language, implied drug use, and suggestive dialogue. _

FILLMORE'S FREAK JUICE

Sally woke up that morning with a bad taste in her mouth and the mother of all hangovers. It felt as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to her hood. She groaned and stretched her axles out. Every inch of her chassis felt sore, even… Sally blushed slightly. She tried to remember what had happened the night before. There had been a party, yes. That much she could easily remember. There had been drinking, too, with enough booze to fuel a rocket to the moon and back. But after the seventh or eighth tequila shot, things got pretty hazy.

Sally stretched again. Her right rear tire brushed against something warm and smooth. She suddenly felt hot under the covers and started to wriggle out from under them. "Chrysler," she yawned, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She turned to the dark form lying beside her in the early morning gloom and smiled. The room was silent save for the shallow breathing of the vehicle resting beside her. She moved closer and snuggled up to him, closing her eyes again.

"Mm, what a crazy night that was, huh Stickers?" she purred. The other vehicle shifted slightly.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Crazy, man. Real crazy," replied Fillmore in his unmistakable slur.

Sally's eyes snapped open. The covers flew off her as she bolted out of bed and spun around to face him. "Fillmore?!" she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

The bus stared at her as though surprised to see her standing there. "Uhhh, well…" he trailed off, turning slowly to gaze around the dimly lit room. "My guess is 'cuz this is my place and I, like, usually sleep here." His eyes met Sally's again and he resumed his dull stare. "Hey, shouldn't I be the one asking you that question?"

"No, no, no, don't bother!" Sally replied, shaking her hood frantically. She quickly regretted it. It suddenly felt as though the hangover fairy had returned to play another sledgehammer solo on her hood. She winced and looked wildly around the room to confirm her surroundings. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the gloom she could easily make out the conical shape of a lava lamp on the nightstand and the beaded curtain hanging in the bedroom doorway.

"I should really be asking myself that question so FORD ALMIGHTY WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE?!!" she shouted suddenly. Fillmore jumped and backed away. They were now standing on opposite sides of the bed. Aside from being startled by her outburst, Fillmore appeared remarkably calm, given the situation.

Sally's gaze drifted back to the bed. It looked as though it hadn't been made in years, and the sheets were covered with stains in a variety of colors. She didn't even want to think about what kind of fluids might have made those stains. There was a faint scent of incense in the air - jasmine - or vanilla? - that barely managed to mask the combined odors of unwashed bus and hemp smoke.

The Porsche fidgeted nervously as she attempted to gather her thoughts. _Okay, okay. Get a hold of yourself, Sally! It's not a big deal. You just had a little too much to drink last night and went to bed in the wrong house. That's all. Nothing happened. Not a th -_

A dull ache she had felt earlier throbbed to life in her nether regions and again Sally felt herself heat up. Her engine raced. She looked up at Fillmore, who was still standing across from her. He had an unfocused look in his eyes as he stared at something around the area of her left headlight. His mouth hung open slightly as though he found that something quite fascinating.

Sally cleared her throat loudly to get his attention, but he did not respond. He blinked, very slowly, and continued to stare at her headlight. Realizing he was stoned, Sally decided to try a different tactic. She drove around the bed until she was standing right in front of him. His eyes flitted to hers and his bumper curved in a gentle smile.

"Oh. Hey, man," he mumbled.

"Fillmore," Sally began, then paused. She took a deep, steadying breath, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with the hippie, if only to make sure his mind wasn't wandering. "Fillmore, tell me the truth," she said slowly. "Last night, did you and I, um, you know…" her hood flushed crimson and she suddenly found herself too embarrassed to finish her sentence.

The bus stared at her for a long time, eyes slowly widening. "Ooooh, huh… oh yeah, man!" he chuckled. "Me and you, we toootally got freaky last night!"

Sally stared at him in horror. "Oh Chrysler," she whispered. "You mean I actually -?"

Fillmore nodded. He was grinning from headlight to headlight. "Did you ever! You were totally crazy, man. I couldn't have stopped you if I wanted to."

Sally's engine skipped a cycle. _Oh my Dodge! What have I done?_

"I've never seen anyone down that much of my freak juice before," Fillmore went on. "Not even Sarge." Sally looked at him questioningly. "Oh yeah, he's totally into that kinda stuff, but try getting him to come out and admit it." The hippie lazily kicked an empty fuel can aside. The can skipped and collided with another can, making a sharp clattering sound. Fillmore turned to see where it had landed.

The grimy-looking bedroom floor was littered with fuel cans. Some had been crushed, and some had obviously not been drained before they'd been tossed aside, judging by several damp spots in the filthy green carpet. Sally surveyed the mess. Her mind was screaming a dozen things at once. One thought screamed louder than the rest and forced her to face the bus again.

"Please… please tell me you used protection!" she pleaded. Fillmore looked at her curiously.

"Huh?" he slurred. "Protection?" He blinked groggily. "From what?"

Sally's engine skipped several cycles this time. "Oh Dodge." Around her, the room started to spin. The hangover pounded maniacally on her hood. Bile rose in her throat and it took quite an effort to keep it down. Without another word, and without looking back, Sally revved her engine and bolted out of the room so fast Fillmore was sure he'd heard a sonic boom.

* * *

_Please review! Part two coming soon!_


	2. Part Two

__

Good God, I can't believe it's been nearly two months since I updated this fic! Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaasssssssssse forgive me!

FILLMORE'S FREAK JUICE

PART TWO

The sun was high in the sky as Sally rolled up to Flo's. She glanced around nervously, praying that no one had seen her emerge from Fillmore's dome a minute ago.

"Goooooooooood mornin', Miss Sally!"

Sally jumped at Mater's cheerful greeting. He had just pulled up to the parking spot beside her, but in her worried state of mind she hadn't heard him approach.

"Or should I say, gooooooooooood afternoon!" Mater chuckled at her reaction. "Well gee whiz, Miss Sally, but yer jumpier 'n uh jackelope! Somethin' eatin' ya?"

Sally blushed and shook her hood. She winced at the throbbing ache that followed. "Nope! Nothing at all! I just - haven't had any coffee yet, that's all." With that said she waved one of the twins over and promptly ordered a cup of strong black, hoping that would be the key to taming her frazzled nerves as well as her hangover.

Mater ordered a Seven Up. "That were some party last night, weren't it?" he commented, staring across the lot with a dreamy look on his face. Sally said nothing. "Yessir, that Fillmore sure knows how tuh throw a party! Don't you think so, Miss Sally?"

This time Sally answered. "Oh yeah, he sure does," she said tartly.

Mater snickered. "Aw, you cain't fool me! Ah seen ya dancin' with him! You two went together like grease on a lug nut!" He gave the Porsche a conspiratorial nudge and glanced around before lowering his voice. "Why, if Ah didn't know no better, Ah'd say you and Fillmore was sweet on each other!"

Sally turned to him sharply. "What?"

Mater chuckled again. "Ahs' jist kiddin', Miss Sally. Ah know ya wouldn't get too cozy with no one but Lightnin.'"

At the mention of her boyfriend, Sally paled. One of the twins drove up just then with their orders. She snatched the mug off the waitress's window tray and gulped down a piping hot mouthful of coffee, cursing colorfully when she burned her tongue. Mater blushed and nearly choked on his soda.

"Ya did WHAT with a truck 'n' uh Dodge Ram?"

Sally ignored him. She took a tiny sip of coffee and made a face. It tasted bitter. Like bile. Her tank churned and she suddenly felt as though she was going to vomit. "Excuse me," she murmured, hastily dropping some money on the ground beside her mug before speeding off.

Sally emerged from the Cozy Cone office several minutes later, looking pale. Her tank was practically empty now, so she rolled slowly back to Flo's to refill it. "Chrysler, please tell me this isn't morning sickness," she mumbled as she hooked herself up to the nearest pump.

"Hey Sal!"

Sally jumped again and bumped the nozzle loose, spilling gas on the pavement. "Dammit Stickers!" she growled. Lightning blushed and reattached it for her.

"Sorry." He gave her a curious sideways glance as he hooked himself to the adjoining pump. She looked a mess. "Hangover?"

Sally nodded but did not look at him. She closed her eyes tight against the glare of the noon sun. Just the word 'hangover' made her hood ache.

"So what happened last night?" Lightning asked her. "I kinda passed out after that last gallon of Fillmore's Freak Juice, but from what I remember you never made it back to the Cone afterward."

Sally turned even paler. _Oh crap. _In one fluid motion she shut the pump off and kicked the nozzle back into place, then pulled out of her spot and swung around to face him. "Nothing happened!" she insisted. "Nothing at all! Why would you even think that something happened when nothing did happen?"

Lightning blinked at her in surprise. "Uhhh, because… you weren't at the Cone this morning either?"

"Oh! Well, that's because I - um - I…"

Lightning held up a tire. "Lemme guess: you got sooo wasted last night that you didn't know what you were doing and ended up going to the wrong place and fell asleep in someone else's bed?"

Sally's jaw hung open. The racecar chuckled. "I'm just kidding, Babe. I know you're a lot more level-headed than that."

Sally forced a smile and allowed herself to relax. Lightning nuzzled her. "So, where _did_ you end up?" he asked. "Not Fillmore's, by any chance? Because if you did -" he started to laugh. "If you did - oh Dodge!" He couldn't speak anymore, he was shaking with laughter.

Engine racing, Sally turned and took off, ignoring Sheriff's warning about minding the speed limit. As she passed Fillmore's place, she slammed on her brakes, leaving black tread marks in the faded asphalt. The stench of burnt rubber caused her tank to churn again, but she ignored it as she stared numbly at the hippie's dome. For nearly a minute she stood there in the middle of the road, wrestling with reason. In the end, she took a deep, calming breath, and drove up to the front door.

It was dark and silent beyond the beaded curtain. A waft of cool air, thick with the incense of vanilla, and just a hint of hemp, drifted out to her. Sally took one last breath of the clean, smoke-free air outside before poking her face through the curtain. As she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, she called out, "Fillmore? Are you home?"

Sally vaguely made out a slurred response coming from the bedroom. Hesitantly, she crossed the threshold. The beads of the curtain were cold, and they tinkled like a light hail against her roof and sides. She paused when she saw the bus emerge from the murky haze.

"Oh, hey man," he mumbled, offering her a smile. "'Sup?"

Sally sighed, forcing herself to meet his stoned gaze. "Fillmore, we need to talk…"

* * *

__

Yeah, I know. It IS evil of me to leave you all hanging like that, but I swear to Dodge that I am NOT going to wait another two months to update! One month, maybe. XD Just kidding. No. I'm going to try my hardest to bring you the conclusion to Fillmore's Freak Juice within the next week! So please stay tuned! Oh, and thanks a mil for the kind reviews. I don't deserve them for putting you off like this, but I sure do appreciate them! BTW part three of Sarge's Safety Recall will be posted very soon as well.


	3. Part Three

FILLMORE'S FREAK JUICE

PART THREE

Fillmore continued to stare at Sally. After what had seemed like an hour he finally blinked. Slowly and stupidly. First one eye, then the other. "Uh… huh?"

Sally took a deep breath, steeling herself to speak. A monarch butterfly drifted past the bus's face. His eyes latched onto it, trailing its lazy flight pattern. A silvery thread of saliva dangled from his slackened bumper.

"Fillmore," Sally spoke up. Fillmore reverted his stoned gaze to her face. "Listen, about last night…" It took her a moment to realize that he was not making eye-contact with her. He seemed to be once again fixated on her headlight. Looking down, she saw that the butterfly had landed on her hood. Fillmore was mesmerized by its bright orange color. The Porsche growled and swatted it way with her antenna. The sudden loud snap jolted the hippie to attention.

"Wha - ?" he blurted out. His normally sleepy eyes were suddenly as wide as all outdoors. "What about last night?"

"You and I need to have a little talk about - (sigh) - about what happened between us last night," Sally said levelly.

At this, Fillmore relaxed, resuming his dull stare. "Ohhh." His lips continued to frame that single syllable long after it had ended. Sally wondered if he'd ever had a bug fly into his perpetually gaping mouth. Another slow blink, then: "Um, what happened?"

Sally made a high-pitched little sound somewhere between an irritated sigh and a hiccup. Curse that infernal freak juice for sapping the sense out of both of them! First she had to go and make a complete ass of herself, and now _him_? Was she going to have to spell it out? She closed her eyes and shook her hood. He was not making this easy for her. Not at all.

"You tell me, Fill," she said distantly. She'd never called him anything short of his full first name before, but then, an impromptu night of drunken sex with the bus practically ushered the informality from her. She opened her eyes and stared back at him blankly. Her face was unreadable. "You're the only one of us who remembers what happened. I, on the other tire, suffered a total blackout, only to wake up -" she gulped audibly, "- in your bed."

"Oh yeeaaahhhh…"

"FILLMORE!" barked a gruff voice behind Sally. Startled, she spun around. Irritable as ever, Sarge approached his hippie neighbor with a scowl. "What in Ford's name have you done with my spare tire _this_ time?"

Fillmore blinked. "Huh?"

Sarge growled. "Where… is… my… spare?" he demanded, speaking very slowly and enunciating every syllable for the bus's benefit.

Fillmore turned his front tires outward in the vehicular version of a shrug. "Iunno," he mumbled, staring at an oil spot on the ground. "Why? S'not on your butt?"

Sally watched Sarge's bumper twitch. "It's missing," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Welllll… maybe Mater took it."

"Uh huh. Or maybe YOU did and you just conveniently forgot! Wouldn't be the first time."

The Porsche sensed a full-blown argument in the making and thought it best to leave them to it. "I'll come back later," she murmured to Fillmore as she started to back away.

When he heard her speak, Fillmore's face lit up. "Oho! So you're the one who took it!" he declared, jabbing a tire at her.

Sally braked. "What?"

"Sally didn't take my spare!" Sarge intervened on her behalf. "She's far too sensible to do such a thing." She smiled appreciatively at him. "Even if she did go a little overboard last night," he added quietly. Sally heard this and paled.

Fillmore chuckled. "Aw, you're just jealous 'cuz she totally ditched you for me."

Sarge snorted. "I didn't care to partake."

"You can't fool me, man. I saw the way you were watchin' us last night."

Sally turned even paler while Sarge remained staunchly indifferent. Not to be discouraged, the bus grinned and gave her a clumsy nudge. "This gal's good, man. Groovy good. You dunno what you missed."

Sally was on the verge of passing out. Or freaking out. She wasn't sure which would happen first, but she wasn't going to wait around to find out. As she put herself in reverse again, Sarge noted her sudden pallor with a raised brow.

"What's the matter with you?" he inquired. "That freak juice give you a bad hangover?"

Sally shook her hood, and in doing so, she both heard and felt something heavy bump around inside her trunk. No longer suffering from her organic fuel crash, whatever it was, despite it's size and weight, failed to give her the nasty hoodache it had earlier. Since she couldn't recall putting anything in her trunk recently, she popped it open to see what was in there now.

Sarge's gasp made her even more curious. Unable to see past her hood, she asked him what he saw. But the Jeep did not answer. Instead, she felt her front end dip under his weight as he reached into her trunk and pulled out the offending object. Sally shut her hood and echoed his gasp. There, lying on the ground between them, was Sarge's spare tire.

* * *

__

Yeah, Porsches have rear-mounted engines and trunks in front, just like VW's. Them Germans is weird. XD Sorry for the ridiculously long wait. More to come much sooner, I hope.


	4. Part Four

_After all this time I present to you... the final chapter!_

FILLMORE'S FREAK JUICE

PART FOUR

It seemed like an eternity had passed as the three vehicles stood in a circle, staring down at the thickly-treaded tire that was unmistakably a Jeep's. Sally's cab swam as blurred images from the night before trickled into her mind. Loud music, laughter, dancing, writhing bodies. Alcohol so strong you could smell it on the summery air like some drunkard's hot breath. And there she was, on the dance floor, wedged tight between two men who were not Lightning.

Her mind's eye blinked, trying to clear itself, looking first to the right then to the left of her. On one side she seemed to be up against a wall, tagged with colorful graffiti. Fillmore. The other side was much harder to see; drab and dull to every sense. Sarge, no doubt. Sally shook her hood, as though by doing so she could rid herself of the memories. But it was no use. Now that they had been recalled, the dam that had thus far been repressing them had broken, all but drowning her in the resulting flood.

Throwing herself into reverse, Sally's tires kicked up a small shower of gravel and dirt as she backed into the street. "You dirty old Jeep!" she heard Fillmore exclaim. She could not escape fast enough, for the bus's guffaws followed her all the way out of town and far into the desert. Bugs splattered her windshield, but Sally barely blinked. All she wanted just then was to put as much distance between herself and last night as possible.

The wail of a siren rose on the wind, and Sally knew without even looking in her rearview mirrors that Sheriff was on her tail. With a sigh she pulled over, clear off the road on the sandy shoulder, and waited. A moment later the squad car had parked beside her, doing a double-take when he realized just whom he had caught speeding.

"Sally? What the - do you have ANY idea how fast you were goin' just now?"

She shook her hood silently.

"Thirty miles over the speed limit, at least! I'd expect that sorta thing from Lightnin', but you? Now what on earth could you possibly be runnin' from?" he demanded of her.

For a long moment, Sally said nothing, nor did she look at him. What could she say? _Sorry Sheriff, I was just trying to escape my demons_? Yeah, right. With another sigh, she turned to face him. Her windshield was smudged from bug splatter and dust, which she finally removed with a few strokes of her wipers. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to speak. "Promise you won't tell Lightning."

* * *

Flo's Café was humming with activity that evening. The air itself seemed alive with electricity that had little to do with the neon lights that sang with a life of their own high above the packed lot. Cured of hangovers and various other complaints reminiscent of the previous night, everyone in town was now gathered together, some boasting loudly of their drunken exploits, others modest with embarrassment.

With much reluctance, Sally pulled up to an end pump. The lighting bathed her frame in a soft, moonlike glow, making her look bluer than usual. She hoped that would be enough to hide her blush. One of the twins glided past her, winking at Red as she asked for his order. Whether or not the fire truck blushed at the little car's flirting was indeterminable, and for once Sally wished she had chosen a less revealing paintjob.

Looking around the lot, the first thing she noticed, aside from the fact that EVERYONE in town happened to be there, was Lightning. There he stood, engaged in a most spirited conversation with - _Oh Chrysler! Not Fillmore!_ And wouldn't you know it, Sarge was right beside him, looking no happier than he usually did. It was enough to send the poor Porsche fleeing in shame once again. Cab reeling, she swallowed a lump in her throat and glanced in a mirror, considering escape. One look at Sheriff, who was parked across from her, and she stopped herself, putting on her emergency brake for good measure.

One of the twins came to take her order. Sally mumbled distractedly, not knowing nor caring whether she made any sense. Whatever she had told the waitress must have translated into English, for a minute later the girl returned with a tall brown bottle. Sally took a drink without even reading the label and made a face. Beer. She swallowed it, very reluctantly, and only because she didn't want to appear rude by spitting it out. _Oh, swell. _Booze was the last thing she wanted at that moment.

"I thought I asked for a root beer?" she said, squinting to make out the girl's nametag. The 'I' and the 'A' were clear as day, but the first letter of the name appeared to have been scribbled over, making it all but impossible to tell whether it read 'MIA' or 'TIA.'

"I just heard you say beer," the Miata replied. "Would you rather have root?"

"Please." Sally gave her the bottle.

As the waitress drove away, she settled low on her axles and closed her eyes, wondering what she was even doing here. It was so easy to just go back to the Cone and hope no one came to see her, but instead, here she was in a crowded café lot, beneath buzzing neons glaring down on her like an accusing spotlight. Something seemed to be rooting her in place: guilt. Yes. That was it. Deep down in her manifolds, Sally WANTED Lightning - wanted the whole town - to see her now.

And that is precisely what happened. As if reading her mind, Lightning turned around and finally noticed her sitting there on the edge of the lot.

"_There_ you are!" he exclaimed, driving toward her with an odd look. Sally gulped. He looked mad. The racecar braked in front of her, blue eyes icy with loathing. And then he laughed. "Who am I kidding? I can't stay mad at you!" he said, and just to show there were no hard feelings, he gave her cheek a tender nuzzle. "Listen, I understand if you needed a break from me and the motel and all, but where've you been all day? You had me worried, babe."

Sally just stared at him. Chrysler, what was she supposed to say? He deserved to know the truth. Half of the town already knew about it. Maybe more, judging from the way some of the other residents were starting to act. Doc and Sheriff seemed to be stealing glances at her as they spoke quietly to each other. Mater's grin was goofier than usual, and the Miata twins were giggling up a storm over something that was taking place in the Porsche's general area.

Sally sighed and shook her hood in defeat. It took her a long time to meet his gaze. "Stickers, I -"

"HEEEYYYYYY!!!" The deep, booming voice of Fillmore cut her off. Sally shrank away from him as he approached. Despite his greeting, the clear, focused look he fixed on her suggested that the hippie was sober. Sally would have been grateful for that fact had he not been accompanied by Sarge. Both men were giving her looks that any other vehicle would have dismissed as benign, but which made Sally herself feel most uncomfortable.

"Um, hey," she murmured, trying her damnedest not to blush. _Did Sarge always look that irritable? Did Fillmore always smile like that? _

Lightning chuckled. "Fillmore was just telling me what a wild and crazy party animal you were last night. Weren't ya, Fill?"

The bus's smiled broadened. "That's right, man. This gal's groovy. I dunno anyone else who could get a rise outta Sergeant Grumpy here." He gave the Jeep beside him a nudge. Sarge snorted and looked pointedly away. Sally's bush deepened.

"Lightning," she said, and though her voice was little, that one word carried loudly across the lot. She never called him that unless she was dead serious about something. Lightning's smile vanished. He gave her a questioning, almost fearful, look.

Sally sighed again. "I did a stupid thing last night," she began, and suddenly it was as if all emotion left her, and the words began to flow forth unimpeded. "I slept with Fillmore. Sarge too, apparently." She didn't look at the two men she had just named, only at Lightning. She didn't even blink. She was a robot now. A zombie.

Silence dropped like an H-bomb over the lot. All eyes were on the little blue Porsche confessing to her crime. Lightning laughed uncomfortably.

"Uhhh, yeah. Fillmore told me about that. But Sarge?" He gave the Jeep a queer sideways glance.

Sarge jutted his bumper out, his frame rigid. "I did no such thing!" he declared loudly. "Sharing a bed with Miss Carrera - why, the thought never even entered my mind!"

"Obviously not," Fillmore replied. "She was with me all night, and I don't recall you coming over and sneaking into my bed. Or did you?"

"Of course not!" Sarge snapped.

Sally raised a brow. "Then, how did your spare tire end up in my trunk?" she asked him, then jumped when Fillmore started snickering.

"Aw man! I remember now! I _did_ take your spare, man," he said gleefully, pointing a tire at Sarge. "I was totally gonna hide it from you, but then Sally came along all plastered and couldn't even drive straight, so I stuck it in her trunk and took her home with me 'cuz I was waaayyyy too wasted to find the Cone."

A chorus of laughs went up from the crowd at Flo's. Even Sarge appeared to be laughing, or at least fighting a losing battle to restrain himself. His bumper was twisted in something akin to a sneer that only close friends could identify as a smile. The only one who remained joyless was Sally. She looked around at everyone, wondering how they could possibly find anything about this whole fiasco even remotely funny. Hadn't she just confessed to cheating on her boyfriend?

"Maybe you didn't hear me correctly," she announced, a little too loudly, as the crowd fell silent once more. Burning redder than Red, she forced herself to keep a tunnel vision gaze on Lightning. "I just told you that I slept with Fillmore last night," she repeated, this time sounding jaded and even impatient. "Does that compute?"

Lightning chuckled. "Well, yeah. It means you fell asleep in his bed, right? You told me that already."

Sally smirked. "In this day and age, it usually means a bit more than that."

"What, you mean -?"

"We had sex. Yeah."

The silence of the night was disrupted yet again as Fillmore burst out laughing. "Whoa! That's not what happened at all, man! When I said I had a far out time with you last night, I was talking about the party!" he said to Sally between guffaws. "The way you were dancing - oh man! You were toootally crazy!" By now the bus's sides were heaving and there were tears in his eyes. "Lightning kinda disappeared, so I let you lean on me all the way home, and next thing I know you're crashing in my bed, sleeping like a log."

Sally blinked. "You mean, we didn't -?"

Fillmore shook his head, still snickering. "Oh, hell no! Nothing happened in that bed last night, except you kicking me in your sleep a couple of times. And by the way, you might wanna have that engine of yours tuned. You snore like a freight train."

The town's collective laughter fell on deaf ears. Sally just stood there, stunned. A little red Miata forced her way through the crowd and presented her with a root beer. Sally blinked, her lip curled in disgust. "I changed my mind," she muttered. "Give me back my beer."

THE END

* * *

_A/N: Phew! You have NO idea how glad I am to be done with this story! I cannot even begin to apologize for all the delays, but I hope that this last chapter has exceeded your expectations, and that you will be kind enough to leave me a review. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
